


Liars

by Orcusnox (Cat9894)



Series: Pathetic, Ordinary, Liars [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family, Alternate Universe -Dark, Based on a Tumblr Post, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Ron Weasley, Follows along with Chamber of Secrets, slytherin golden trio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat9894/pseuds/Orcusnox
Summary: Second year of Hogwarts. Harry makes a daring escape to Hogwarts. There's a new hierarchy in the Slytherin House, and the trio need to find their own place in it or risk being shunned by the entire House. The walls start talking to Harry. Hermione and Ron are geniuses in their own right. Lockhart is still an ass. Quaint things like morality and wrong and right get discussed.
Series: Pathetic, Ordinary, Liars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973944
Comments: 47
Kudos: 251





	1. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There is poetry in brutal efficiency_

Harry had to admit, things weren’t all bad now that he was back at the Dursley’s. He had never admitted that he couldn’t do magic outside of school. All he had to do was walk around with his wand in sight and the Dursley’s avoided him. If he asked them a question, they answered as quickly as possible and then scrambled into a different part of the house. Sometimes, Dudley wouldn't notice the wand until he was too close, and whatever nasty thing he had been about to say or do vanished and he scrambled away from Harry as fast as he could. Watching Dudley try and move quickly with his bulk - which, Harry noticed with disgust, had grown again over the break - was actually very amusing.  


Aunt Petunia was usually the one who saw Harry most, and that was just to point to the dishes or the garden or the fridge. Harry was fine with doing chores - it kept him busy, and honestly gave him time to relax after working mentally on his homework. He liked cooking, even if he rarely had a chance to taste what he made. Now, at least, there was a chance for him to smuggle some of his cooking upstairs to his room, and even if it was cold by the time he got upstairs, it was better than nothing.

Erus, who was now free to spend as much time as she liked with Harry, since the Dursley’s were too afraid to say anything, was also pleased. She liked more than ever to drape herself over his shoulders or wrap herself around his neck like a scarf. Sometimes she would have to leave him to hunt for mice, but he left his window open and always went downstairs and helped her back inside when she came calling back.  
  


If there was one thing that bothered him, though, it was that he hadn’t heard anything from his friends.  
  


Both Ron and Hermione had been given his address so that they could write letters to him. They had both promised to do so, but it was almost the beginning of second year and Harry hadn’t seen even an owl. Erus was sure she had seen Dia once at the beginning of the break, but Harry had never and there had been no letters.  
  


He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. While Ron and Hermione had been given his address, he hadn’t asked for theirs because they would write to him. His plan had just been to send the letters he had written for them back with Dia and Ron’s owl. But now, with most of the break gone and not a word from his friends, Harry didn't think he was wrong to be hurt and upset.  
  


Harry sighed to himself as he dipped his quill into the ink. This was his tenth letter to Ron and Hermione, and even though all it said was that he was doing well and missed them and Hogwarts, Harry felt sad looking at it. The rest he'd hidden inside one of his text books. He hadn't decided if he would give the letters to Ron and Hermione when he returned to Hogwarts. He supposed that had a lot to do with their reason for not sending him letters.  
  


 _“Do you think they have forgotten me?”_ he asked Erus quietly.  
  


Erus hissed at him wordlessly, flashing her fangs to show how annoyed she was. He had been asking variations of the same question all break. _“You know they have not, speaker. Do not say such silly things.”  
  
_

If he was being honest, Harry knew there was no way Ron and Hermione had forgotten him. They had faced so much together in their first year, and Harry thought they had a good friendship. He didn't think people that faced a troll together, or Voldemort, or the _entire Slytherin house_ , would be the kind to not at least... Write to one another?  
  


At least he _had_ thought so. Now the doubts were creeping in, because even though the Dursley’s were _tolerant_ of him because they feared what he could do with magic, it wasn’t like they _liked_ him. If anything, it made Harry a little apprehensive to think of what would happen when the Dursley’s realised he couldn’t use magic. It was like a rope, frayed to the last string. When the Dursley's learned that he had been taking them for fools (which wasn't hard, honestly), he wasn't sure what they would do.  
  


The thought had him rubbing his shoulder. It hadn’t hurt since Madam Pomfrey had given him all of those disgusting potions to drink, but it was habit. Lessons with the Dursley's _hurt_ , and he was almost certain that this would be a lesson they wouldn't want him to forget. Harry heard the sound of Uncle Vernon’s feet up the stairs and looked to the door. His wand was in easy reach, but he wondered if maybe there was a way to keep a hand close and easy to grab. It seemed… _slow_ to keep it in his pocket or on his desk, in sight.  
  


His door opened without a knock, but Harry was used to that. It almost made him relieved that some things hadn’t changed. He could still anticipate some things.  
  


“Boy,” Uncle Vernon said, his eyes immediately falling on the wand next to Harry’s hand. “Boy,” he repeated, sounding like he was trying not to say something worse. “You need to stay up here this afternoon.” The way he gritted his teeth around the words, like being _polite_ to Harry physically pained him, would have bothered Harry a very, very long time ago. As it was, he supposed he should be thankful that this was now normal.  
  


Harry blinked and tilted his head. “The dinner with Mr and Mrs Mason _is_ happening after all?” he asked, and was gratified to see his uncle looking lost as to how he had known about something he had no business knowing. Telling Uncle Vernon that he was loud, and that Harry _did_ have ears, wouldn't be wise, so Harry kept his mouth shut. This was all such a delicate balance, and he didn't want to break it.  
  


“Yes,” Uncle Vernon replied at length, recovering some of his usual bluster. “They will be arriving for dinner at six o’clock sharp. They have no idea _you_ exist, and I will not have you ruining such an important moment for me.”  
  


“Whatever you say,” Harry said, already bored of the conversation. People that had no idea he existed were everywhere. He had no interest in them.  
  


Uncle Vernon stepped closer, and hundreds of memories flashed through Harry’s mind in the moments it took him to snatch his wand, stand, and point his wand at Uncle Vernon’s forehead. Hundreds of painful, humiliating memories.  
  


Erus was at the edge of the desk, ready to strike. She let out a constant hiss, wordless and threatening.  
  


“Not another step,” Harry said quietly, letting a calm smile stretch across his face, even if he felt anything but. “You don’t want me to bother your guests, and I don’t want you to bother me. As long as we understand each other, there’s nothing else to say, is there?”  
  


Uncle Vernon stood rooted to the spot, almost going cross eyed to keep the wand in sight. He stepped back, and Harry let his arm drop. Erus remained alert, the hiss quieting but not subsiding completely. His uncle kept moving until he was out the door, and it was only then that Erus settled.  
  


Harry sat back down, shaking out his hand as it trembled. He glared at it, flexing his fingers until the trembles stopped. _This_ was why he was still so, so careful not to antagonise his family. Walking on eggshells was better than what he knew would happen once they figured out Harry was just as defenceless as he always had been.  
  


_“If I’m going to get a letter at all,”_ he murmured to Erus, _“I hope it’s today.”  
  
_

Erus slithered underneath his fingers. Harry knew that she loved the gentle touch, but she also knew that doing this soothed him. Based on what he had read in the book Hermione had gotten him for Christmas, he had explained to Erus that this sort of action-reaction was a product of their relationship. The book called it ‘mutualism’, which Harry found was also a term used by muggles in biology. He thought it was very interesting that the muggle world and the magical world had a word that was, basically, used to describe the same situation.  
  


Erus said she didn’t care what it was, since it made both of them feel better and that was all she wanted.  
  


 _“Your bloody one and your clever one will not forget the day of your hatching,”_ Erus said firmly. Harry smiled at her, stroking down her smooth pliant length. They relaxed together, and in the minutes of quiet Harry flexed his magic, feeling along the edges and stretching it wider, larger. He didn't really know how to describe it - if someone asked, he supposed he would liken his magic to a large, stretchy blanket.  
  


Abruptly, Erus snapped into a threat pose, her attention focused behind Harry. A sharp crack, like the sound of a firework but softer, sounded at the same time. Harry whirled around, wand in hand, and stared in amazement at the creature that was perched on his bed.  
  


With large, bat-like ears and eyes that were roughly the size of tennis balls, Harry recognised the creature less for its physical appearance and more for the old, filthy pillowcase it wore. The house elf slid off the bed and offered Harry a bow that touched the tip of its long nose to the floor.  
  


Harry lowered his wand, completely baffled by this event. He had no ideas, no suspicions. He was, simply, very confused.  
  


“Hello,” he said, to break what was becoming a very awkward silence. The elf finally lifted its nose off the floor, fixing him with a piercing green stare. Harry thought it was male. “Can I help you?”  
  


“Harry Potter,” squeaked the house elf. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir… Such an honour it is…”  
  


_“Speaker, what is this?”  
  
_

_“If I’m not wrong, this is the house elf of an old family,”_ Harry replied, sitting carefully in his chair. He had only read a little about house elves, and what he knew was that they were essentially magically bound servants of magical households.  
  


The elf’s mouth dropped open in awe. “Dobby has never heard a wizard speak to a snake, sir! Dobby knew you were a great wizard, sir!”  
  


Harry smiled a little at that. “Thank you very much, Dobby. Would you like to sit? Is there -” But he couldn’t say anything else, Dobby began wailing.  
  


Loudly.  
  


Harry shot a look at the door, and glanced at the clock ticking loudly above his bed. Twenty to six. He had time. Even if the Dursley's heard, he didn't think they would bother to come check what was going on.  
  


“I’m sorry if I offended you,” he said hurriedly, because he really wasn’t sure what else it could be. The elf quieted a little, enough that he could hear Harry. “But could you explain to me what I said wrong? My aunt and uncle don’t know you’re here, and I don’t think they would like it very much if they saw you.”  
  


Dobby sniffled. “You is not offending Dobby, sir,” he explained. “Dobby has never been asked to _sit down_ by a wizard - like an _equal_.”  
  


Ah, Harry thought. “Of course,” he said. “I only know a little about house elves, I’m sorry to say. But can I ask, what are you doing here?”  
  


“Dobby has come to tell you, sir... “ The elf’s eyes flickered to the door, to the window, and he started to wring his hands. “It is very difficult, sir. Dobby does not know where to begin.” Erus slithered closer to the house elf, flicking her tongue towards him. He watched her move, a little wary, but didn’t seem to mind being so close to a venomous reptile.  
  


Dobby’s reluctance to tell Harry why he was here made Harry suspicious. “Your family doesn’t know that you’re here, do they?”  
  


“Oh no, sir.” The elf shuddered. “Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir…”  
  


Harry, who had been about to check the time again, looked back at the elf. “You punish yourself?” he asked. His voice sounded a little odd to his ears.  
  


Dobby nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments, like if Dobby makes the tea too hot for mistress and her guests…”  
  


Harry could feel his magic. Over the entire break, he’d been working with it. He had a much better understanding of it, and since he didn’t cast any spells, it wasn’t as though he could get in trouble for it. At least, that’s what he had hoped at the beginning, and it seemed to be holding true. Because he'd been practicing with it not too long ago, he was even more aware of it than he normally was.  
  


Right now, his magic was seething. It was less like a blanket and more like a ball of vibrating _anger_. It tasted like cinnamon on his tongue. It wanted to lash out, Harry knew, but he didn't know if that counted enough for him to get in trouble or not.  
  


“Your family does not sound very nice,” Harry commented, cool fury laced through his voice. “Will you tell me why you’re here, please?”  
  


“Dobby has heard many great things about Harry Potter, sir. Dobby has heard Harry Potter faced the Dark Lord for a _second_ time… And that Harry Potter escaped, again.”  
  


 _“He belongs to a family that follows Voldemort, then. A shame we know so many of them,”_ Harry hissed to Erus. To Dobby, he replied, “I wouldn’t have been able to do anything without my friends.”  
  


“Harry Potter is humble and modest,” Dobby said, eyes wide.  
  


Harry frowned. “I’m only telling the truth. Without my friends, I would never have done what I did.”  
  
“Harry Potter is valiant and truthful,” Dobby said with another sniff, dabbing his eyes with his pillowcase. “But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if Dobby _does_ have to shut his ears in the oven door later… _Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking down the last chapter for the last fic where I asked if you all wanted to see chapters or snippets. Since majority of you asked for chapters, here we go again :D (Sorry for the people that wanted snippets, I hope this isn't too disappointing for you <3 )
> 
> Some responses to questions here so I don't reply and then delete that chapter and the comments:
> 
> -I do have a Tumblr, I haven't been on it for about as long as I haven't worked on this fic... And so I have forgotten the password x.x I'm honestly okay with not using Tumblr though it sucked up a lot of my time.
> 
> -There was a question about romance, and I think honestly a lot of you are probably secretly interested (yes, I know you fanfic reader types - I'm one too!) Honestly I've been toying with the idea of relationships that aren't really used too much in fanfic, and romance is used a LOT. If the story eventually does happen that way, I'm sure I'll do my best with that! But honestly, that is very far away haha
> 
> -And finally, to the rather rude person who commented that it had taken me "four years" to finish the first book, and that it "would be 2046 when you read seventh year"  
> a) I hope that's not the attitude you give people all the time  
> b) This work has been untouched for 2-3 years at a minimum. I posted an extra chapter this year as an update and to ask people if they were interested in me continuing this AU  
> c) This really came across as you attacking me for not posting fast enough for you. I'm sure you didn't mean it like that but I wrote this because I enjoyed it, not because I wanted everything to be nit-picked and made to feel as though I didn't do a good enough job. I literally re-wrote a novel. For free. Please don't come into my comments trying to make me feel bad about how long it took me. Write it yourself if you want it done in a timely fashion


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Some bodies are temples, but all are ruins at your feet. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter contains abuse and someone receiving a beating. This is as tame as I'm willing to make it. If you have problems, I advise you to skip this chapter. This entire sequence from the book is pretty much the same here. This fic has the _Graphic Depictions of Violence_ tag. Heed it. Thanks!**

Harry started at Dobby. Dobby stared at him, as though his words had not been _that_ big of a deal. As though the house elf's words had not given Harry a feeling of utter horror. As though, maybe, Dobby had just asked Harry for a cup of tea. Dimly, Harry heard a knock on the door.  
  


“Term starts September 1st,” Harry said eventually. “I’m going back.”  
  


“No, no, no,” Dobby said, shaking his head until his ears were flapping around his head. Under other circumstances, Harry might have found the sight amusing. “Harry Potter must stay here, where it is safe.”  
  


“Safe?” Harry repeated, his voice scraping like gravel up his throat. " _Here?_ "  
  


“He is too great, too good, to lose,” Dobby continued as though he hadn’t heard Harry. “If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger.”  
  


Harry shook his head. “If I stay here,” he hissed, “and _they_ find out I can’t actually do magic outside of Hogwarts, I _will_ be in mortal danger.”  
  


Dobby trembled. “Still, sir, Harry Potter is safer here. There is a plot, sir. A plot to make the most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year.” His voice was very soft when he admitted, “Dobby has known it for months, Harry Potter.”  
  


_“I can protect you,”_ Erus hissed, feinting to strike at Dobby’s feet. The elf danced back, his eyes even wider.  
  


_“He just doesn’t understand, Erus. He wouldn’t think_ this _was a safe place if he knew what it was like at all.”  
  
_

Erus slithered back to him, coiling up his leg. _“I do not think it will matter what you say, speaker. He smells of determination.”  
  
_

“Dobby,” Harry said. “Do you know how you told me you will have to close your ears in the oven door?” The house elf nodded, looking as though he was about to start crying at the very thought. “If I stay here, and the Dursley’s find out that I can’t use magic to make them stop, they will hurt me like you are going to hurt yourself. And they will not stop until they think they’ve paid me back for whatever wrong I’ve done them. Do you understand?”  
  


The house elf wrung his hands. “Harry Potter, sir, is not knowing what Dobby knows.”  
  


“And you don’t know what I know,” Harry replied sharply. “Whatever is happening at Hogwarts this year, I have a better chance there where I can defend myself than I do here. I will have my friends to help me there as well.”  
  


“Friends that don’t even _write_ to Harry Potter?” Dobby asked.  
  


Harry stopped breathing.  
  


In the resounding silence, Harry heard unfamiliar laughter coming from the living room. He realised, in a very far away, unimportant part of his mind, that Uncle Vernon’s guests must have arrived. Erus was hissing again, reacting to the rigidity of Harry’s muscles underneath her body. There was no other way to interpret what the house elf was saying.  
  


“Have you been stopping my letters?” Harry asked, his voice completely flat. His magic was a completely different story, lashing around without touching anything. He didn't know how to let it go, hadn't figured out the magic words or secret way to _let it out_. It was stuck, raging just outside the confines of his body without affecting the world around him.  
  


Dobby’s eyes widened as though he could see Harry’s magic. “Harry Potter must not be angry, sir,” he pleaded.  
  


It was a little late for that. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had been this furious. Even Malfoy calling Erus his _pet_ hadn't stirred this kind of rage. Harry gritted his teeth. “First strike,” he said, mostly to himself. “Dobby, you only have two strikes left. Please, I don’t want to have to act against you. Give me the letters.”  
  


“First, Harry Potter must promise to _stay here_ !” Dobby said loudly, but Harry could see his whole body shaking. Scared, perhaps? It didn't really matter, if Harry got what he wanted. What he _needed_.  
  


“The letters, Dobby. Please.”  
  


Harry wasn’t sure if Dobby _gave_ him the letters or if his magic _took_ them, somehow - regardless, they were in his hand and he sucked in a breath to see the familiar handwriting of his friends. Hermione’s neat letters were just as welcome as Ron’s messier scrawl, and Harry thought he saw at least one letter that looked as though it was from Hagrid. Harry didn’t realise he was crying until the first tears fell onto the top letter. He jerked the letters out of the way, scrubbing his eyes as his breath shuddered around his chest.  
  


_They hadn’t forgotten him.  
  
_

When he’d calmed down enough that his breathing was mostly steady, he opened his eyes to see Dobby still sitting there, watching him anxiously. Erus had moved around his neck, gently hissing and flicking her tongue against his skin. Soothing as only she could be.  
  


“I - you -” For once, Harry had no words.  
  


Dobby looked sad. “Harry Potter is leaving Dobby no choice, sir.”  
  


Before Harry could say anything, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, opened it, and vanished down the stairs. For the second time since Dobby had appeared in his room, Harry stopped breathing.  
  


_“Run, speaker!”  
  
_

Moving as quietly but as quickly as he could, Harry sprang after Dobby. His stomach was churning, terror and anger vying for control as he leapt down the last six stairs, landing cat-like on the carpet. He moved silently down the hall, avoiding the creaking board and peered into the kitchen. Perched atop the counter, Dobby had his huge eyes focused on Aunt Petunia’s pudding.  
  


Which was floating near the ceiling.  
  


Dobby didn’t let Harry say anything. There was nothing Dobby could say to make Harry change his mind, and so it looked like the house elf had done the only thing he though the could. He took the choice from Harry. The sound of the pudding hitting the floor, the dish shattering into a million pieces, had everyone running into the kitchen. Dobby vanished with a crack just before Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen.  
  


Harry wasn’t sure he could remember the last time he had seen Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia so furious. He remembered the belt well enough. His only defence was up in his room. He didn’t listen to what excuses the two gave their guests. He just stared at the pudding on the floor. Cleaning it up would be a waste of energy. It didn't matter what he did, now.  
  


When the owl flew into the dining room window, Mrs Mason screamed and ran out the front door, past Harry and Erus. Her husband didn’t stay much long, and Harry knew that Uncle Vernon would not be making that deal. Mr Mason spotted Erus, where Mrs Mason had not, and started swearing about freaks and zoos.  
  


When they were gone, the front door closing with an echo that felt like it rattled Harry's bones. Uncle Vernon advanced on Harry, holding the letter the owl had delivered. His eyes held a pure, awful delight. “Read it,” he snarled. Harry took the letter. It may as well have been a guillotine for his neck.  
  


The words blurred together. Harry’s breathing was rapid and shallow. Erus was still around his neck, hidden under his clothes. He wanted to pull her from his skin, run and let her out of a window so she wouldn't be anywhere near him and whatever followed. Whatever happened, he didn't want her getting hurt. Couldn't stand for it.  
  


“You didn’t tell us you weren’t allowed to use magic outside school,” Uncle Vernon said, advancing closer. Harry took an involuntary step back. “I’m sure it must have slipped your mind, did it? _Forgot_ to mention it?”  
  


Aunt Petunia let her eyes flicker between Harry and Uncle Vernon, but Harry knew she would side with Uncle Vernon. She always had, and she always would. Her eyes settled on her husband, and without a word she turned and pulled Dudley out into the courtyard.  
  
  
"But I want to watch," Harry heard Dudley whine as the glass door closed behind them.  
  


"Well, I’ve got news for you, boy… I’m locking you up… you’re never going back to that school… _never_ . And if you try to magic yourself out, _they’ll expel you_.”  
  


His hand was an iron grip around Harry’s arm, and Harry didn’t fight him. Uncle Vernon was so much bigger, and if he struggled it would just make the punishment worse. Up the stairs they went, Harry’s mind quiet and calm while his magic whirled, a force of chaos Harry couldn’t release. Into his room they went. Erus unwound herself fast enough to be able to plant herself over Harry’s letter and his wand, striking at Uncle Vernon when his fat hand reached for the wand that suddenly looked frighteningly delicate. He pulled away and cursed, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try again.  
  


Instead, Uncle Vernon threw Harry onto the floor. Harry let himself fall, but he was out of practice at being quick enough to stop the worst of the damage. Before he could curl into a ball, Uncle Vernon’s foot slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind from Harry’s lungs. As he lay gasping on the floor, Harry heard the unmistakable sound of Uncle Vernon undoing his belt. He saw Erus move for him, but he hissed out a no that ended in another gasp as Uncle Vernon kicked him again.  
  


“That deal,” he snarled, pulling Harry’s shirt off, “was as good as closed.” Harry listened to the ripping sound when Uncle Vernon got impatient.  
  


The first blow was a line of pain across his back. Harry made a low noise of pain, but he knew it would get worse. He didn't waste the energy to be scared, to try and plead his case. His words had _never_ mattered in this house, and even though he fiercely hoped, one day, that they would, Harry knew now wasn't the time.  
  


“And then you had to ruin it with your _magic_ .”  
  


Another kick, this time in the ribs. Harry gasped for air, stupidly rolling, trying to get away. It was a mistake, one he knew as soon as he made it. Uncle Vernon’s hand tangled in his hair and yanked his head. Harry’s fingers scrambled against Uncle Vernon’s skin, until the next blow - Uncle Vernon's fist, maybe? - was aimed at his stomach once again. Another strike with the whip, this time across his chest.  
  


“All the good we have done for you,” Uncle Vernon said, his hand closing around Harry’s throat, “and _this_ is how you treat us? We took you in when your freak parents died. We didn’t have to.”  
  


Involuntarily, Harry tried to pry the fingers from around his throat. He felt his own fingernails cutting into his skin, but he _needed air_ …  
  


Just as the black was beginning to take over Harry’s sight, Uncle Vernon threw him to the ground again. Harry couldn't think beyond _air_. There was no more talking after that. Just the rhythmic sound of the whip through the air, Uncle Vernon’s grunts of effort, Harry’s whimpers of pain, and Erus’ wordless hisses of rage and helplessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments, I appreciate you all <3 At this point I'm not feeling like I have enough energy to respond to them all personally, but please know I see and appreciate them!


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Loneliness is the fracture that never quite heals right_
> 
> The rescue of Harry Potter from Privet Drive by Sirs Fred, George and Ronald Weasley.

Harry woke all at once, an abrupt transition from peaceful oblivion to aching, lingering pain. He groaned quietly, and immediately felt Erus’ smooth scales against his cheek.

_“Speaker,”_ she said, her tongue flicking gently against his cheek. He made a noise in reply. _“I hid your letters and your magic stick under the wood,”_ she told him.

_“Erus,”_ Harry sighed, muscles unconsciously relaxing. _“How bad is it?”  
_

Erus was silent for a moment. _“I would rather you had taken on another troll, speaker,”_ she admitted eventually.

Harry started to laugh, but stopped quickly. His ribs ached, but he didn’t think any were broken. They felt badly bruised, at worst. His back, on the other hand...   
  
_“Cleaned?”_ he asked.

_“No,”_ Erus said. _“They have made this room into a cage for you, speaker. If I leave, you cannot let me back in.”  
_

Harry waited for Erus’ words to make sense, but they didn’t. He ever so slowly started to move, bringing his hands up under his chest. His arms stung, so Harry supposed that Uncle Vernon hadn’t spared much of him from the belt. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off his stomach, so quickly that the world spun and black started to creep across his vision.

_“Careful, speaker,”_ Erus hissed, slithering next to his hands. She didn’t go over them, and once his vision cleared, Harry saw the dark bruises mottling even the back of his hands. _“He stepped on them,”_ she explained. _“Many times.”  
_

_“Not broken,”_ Harry said, experimentally curling his fingers. _“A blessing.”  
_

Erus didn’t say anything in response, offering silent comfort as Harry slowly started to move. He tested his movement, and when he tried to twist, felt several wounds on his back open and begin to weep. He ignored that, and finally, finally, he was on his feet. He swayed, but the pain was not so bad that he would faint.

Harry saw the bars on the window immediately. Dread wormed its way through his limbs, making his legs shake. He turned away, breath hissing out as he made his way to his door. At the bottom was a cat flap.

“Are you awake, freak?” Dudley hissed from the other side of the door. Harry stepped back, shocked. How long had his cousin been waiting there, to hear him wake up? “Dad didn’t hit you hard enough, I guess.”

There was no point remaining silent. It hadn’t worked, and there was little he or Erus could do now to make the situation worse. “Do you think you could do it better?” Harry sneered back. “Are you going to come in here and show me how you’d do it?”

He listened to Dudley breathing for a moment. “You’re lucky I can’t,” Dudley eventually said.

“And all of you are lucky I _can’t_ use magic outside of school,” Harry snapped back. “Did you _really_ think that if I had the option to turn you all into pigs and sell you to the slaughterhouse I wouldn’t?” At the mention of pigs, Harry could imagine Dudley trying to cover his fat bottom. It made him smirk.

“At least _I’m_ not the one who got a beating for my birthday.”

Harry listened to his cousin’s heavy footsteps move away, and down the stairs. The smirk had been wiped from his face at his cousin’s words; both by the realisation that his birthday had gone by while he was unconscious and because now Harry knew for certain that the Dursley’s knew when his birthday was. He hadn’t been sure if they had even bothered to remember it for years, but obviously they knew when it was and made a point to ignore it.

He tried to handle, already expecting that it wouldn’t turn. Harry moved slowly, doing his best not to aggravate the wounds on his back anymore than he already had. His hands, while sore, definitely weren’t broken. Harry gently flexed his fingers as he made his way back to the window.

_“Speaker?”_

Harry stared out of the barred window, his magic whirling around him. _“If I use magic again I will be expelled,”_ he told Erus.

The snake coiled up his leg, and Harry dropped an arm so that she could continue upwards until she was draped over his shoulders. _“You do not think they will be merciful, speaker?”  
_

He felt eyes on him, but he could see no one. He turned away. _“Someone left me here, to this,”_ he said, a bitter smile cracking across his face. _“I don’t think anyone cares.”  
_

_“Your bloody one and your clever one care, speaker,”_ Erus hissed immediately. _“They will know something is wrong.”  
_

Harry didn’t reply as he maneuvered his way back into bed. It hurt to move, and, it turned out, it hurt to be still. But he was using less energy on the bed than he was standing up, so he figured it was better this way.

_“They are children,”_ he muttered finally. _“They’re only children.”  
_

Harry had never hated the phrase more than he did now.

  
-x-x-x-  
  


He had to let Erus outside. She couldn’t exist without food, as much as Harry couldn’t, and it had been a long time since she’d eaten. Luckily, there was a pipe next to the barred window that Harry could almost reach, and Erus was long enough that she could make up the remaining distance and use the pipe to make her way safely to the ground.

_“I will be nearby,”_ she said before she started on her way down. _“You may not be able to see me, but I will be as close as I can.”  
_

Harry smiled, soft and real. _“Thank you Erus.”  
_

Neither of them acknowledged that it would be useless for her to be nearby if Uncle Vernon came home angry.

Harry slept fitfully. He didn’t toss and turn, because that was not how he slept. But his dreams were full of shouting and pain, and he woke often, heart racing and breath short. He missed waking up to Erus running herself across the back of his hands, or flicking her tongue against his cheek.

Some days passed in this way. Harry hardly cared - he woke up, ate whatever bit of food had been shoved in the cat flap (if anything at all), went to the toilet in a bucket that was starting to foul the room, and then laid back in bed. By now, he knew every word of all the letters by heart, but he still found himself pulling them out, if only to trace the letters written.

The dejection and monotony was destroyed one night. Harry, his wounds scabbed over and starting to stay finally stay that way - he had always healed quickly, even when he’d been younger - was staring blankly at the moon shining through the bars of the window when he heard the sound of a car.

Now, normally, this wouldn’t have caused much confusion. Cars were a normal part of muggle life, and on Privet Drive people who _didn’t_ own a car were generally regarded as less important than those that did. It had something to do with the importance of money, Harry assumed, because he’d never really paid any attention and now, with his inheritance, he didn’t need to.

But it was currently past midnight. Harry had heard Aunt Petunia go to bed, could hear her snores even now. If there had been someone planning on coming back late, Aunt Petunia would have somehow known. She would be awake, watching, ready to spread whatever it was she could see.

Harry was pushing himself off his bed to see for himself when lights flashed across his window. He had a moment to puzzle over that before he heard a very familiar voice hiss his name.

“Harry!”

“Ron?” Harry muttered. He was on the second floor - why was he hearing Ron’s voice right next to his window? 

Harry had, apparently, forgotten that magic existed, because his mouth fell open at the sight of Ron, along with Fred and George, seated in an old turquoise car that was parked mid air.

“Wicked,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to the Weasley’s. “You should turn off the lights,” he told them quietly.

Fred did as he asked, and Ron leaned further out of the window to get Harry’s attention. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You haven’t been replying to any of my letters - you haven’t replied to Hermione either. And then dad came home talking about how you got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles -”

“It wasn’t me,” Harry interrupted, sharply and almost a little too loudly. He froze, listening to the sound of Uncle Vernon’s snores, before he continued in a quieter voice. “I didn’t use magic in front of them.”

Ron looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he changed the subject. “Have you got everything somewhere? You’re coming with us.” His blue eyes, pale and otherworldly in the moonlight, traced the bars blocking Harry’s window. “Is Erus with you?”

“Here,” George said, tossing Harry a rope. “Tie that around the bars.”

Harry stood dumbfounded for a moment before he started moving. He tied the rope tightly around the bars and answered Ron. “Almost all my things are in here with me. But my trunk is downstairs, and Erus is outside somewhere.”

“Not a problem,” chorused the twins.

“We can get your trunk,” Fred added as he made a shooing motion. “Now step back.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to voice his concerns about how loud this would be before Fred was revving the engine. Harry watched Fred drive straight up into the air, and the bars came away from the window with a crunching sound. He listened again, hardly breathing when he heard Uncle Vernon mutter something and roll over, his body making the bed creak warningly.

Ron had pulled the bars into the car by this point, and Fred and George quietly climbed into Harry’s room.

“The door’s locked,” Harry said, turning to watch them. Ron made a noise as he pulled himself into Harry’s room, but Harry was focused on the twins. George pulled a hairpin from his pocket, and Harry almost laughed aloud.

“A lot of wizards think it’s a waste of time, learning this sort of Muggle trick,” Fred told Harry as George knelt down to pick the lock, “but we feel they’re skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow.”

“The Dursley’s made sure there was nothing I could use to pick the lock,” Harry said.

The twins flashed him identical smiles. “Good thing we always have one handy then, isn’t it?” A small click, and the door swung open. “We’ll get your trunk, you and Ron empty your room.”

“The bottom stair creaks,” Harry whispered in response. The twins vanished into the darkness of the house.

Harry turned when Ron cleared his throat. “You might want to get dressed properly,” Ron said, tossing him a shirt he’d apparently found. Harry pulled it on, realization like ice hitting him in the face. There was no way Ron had not seen the marks on his back - old and new. “Later,” Ron said quickly, obviously seeing the panic spreading through Harry somehow, even though Harry was so, so careful not to let his face give anything away. “Where is everything?”

Harry didn’t reply with words - he was honestly worried that his voice would shake and tremble. He crouched beside his bed and lifted the loose plank to reveal the secret hiding spot. His wand was immediately in his hand, and he didn’t think he imagined the flash of warmth that caressed his skin. Ron pulled out books, and even though he raised his eyebrows at the containers under the bed, he didn’t say anything.

Ron jumped back into the car, and Harry handed over everything to his friend. Because he suddenly didn’t want to talk to Ron - even though he was so happy to see his friend - Harry rushed downstairs to help Fred and George with his trunk. Harry wished that Ron hadn’t seen so many things that spelled out his pathetic existence.

They heaved the trunk up the stairs as quietly as they could. Harry kept half his focus on the steady sound of Uncle Vernon’s snores as he and the Weasley’s maneuvered the trunk into the car. It fell through with a noise that made Harry flinch, his body turning towards the now closed door to his bedroom. They all were very quiet as he listened.

“Let’s go,” George finally said, and the twins began helping Harry into the car.

“I’m not leaving without Erus,” Harry whispered fiercely.

He could have shouted the words, because at that moment the door to Harry’s room burst open, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see Uncle Vernon framed in the doorway. Fear flashed through Harry, and he scrambled further through the window.

“He’s getting away!” Uncle Vernon roared behind Harry, and Harry felt his heart stop when those thick, unyielding fingers closed around his ankle. “Petunia! HE’S GETTING AWAY!”

George and Ron’s hands were tight on his wrists, and when Harry met Ron’s wide, blue eyes, every bit of resentment and hatred for his uncle surged through his body and he kicked backwards with all his might. The resulting crack felt like it shuddered through him, and when Harry met Ron’s eyes again they were bright, sharp and approving.

The two Weasley’s hauled Harry into the car as Fred accelerated into the sky. The back seat was a mess of the three of them until George managed to untangle himself and pull himself into the passenger seat.

“Erus!” Harry shouted, clumsily climbing over Ron to the open window. _“Erus!”  
_

The ground was already so far away. Harry, half hanging from the back window, scoured the moonlit lawn for any sign of his friend. Ron was holding Harry by the waist to stop him from falling out.

_“Erus!”_ Harry called again.

“Harry, you have to stop shouting,” Ron hissed. “We’ll have to come back for her.” Harry made a noise of distress - _leave_ Erus? Here? _Alone?_ Had Ron gone mad? “Harry, I _promise_ ,” Ron hissed, grabbing the back of Harry’s head and pulling him so that their foreheads pressed together, eyes locked, “I _promise_ we won’t leave her here for long.”

Ron was asking Harry to trust him. Harry knew that, just like he knew that Ron was serious. Fred and George hadn’t said anything, but now George turned around to look at them both.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” he said, somehow sounding serious even though he was smiling. “Your snake will be okay.”

“Mum and dad will go and get her themselves, if you want,” Fred added. “They’re already in love with you.”

“Which is why we’re sure we won’t get in too much trouble for borrowing dad’s car,” George said. “So Ron’s right, we won’t leave her there for long.”

“Alright, Harry?” Ron asked, his hand warm and strong on the back of Harry’s head.

Harry just breathed for a moment. So much had happened, and Harry didn't think he'd ever felt more out of his depth. He didn't really know what to do, what to say. Erus was his best friend, his most treasured companion, and to leave her was... It felt wrong, like a physical pain, bone grinding against bone. But he knew she would be happy he had escaped his cage.

At least for now.

“Alright,” he finally whispered, pretending that his voice didn’t sound like that of a terrified child. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, sorry to have taken so long to write this chapter! I got about halfway through and then realised there were so many possible ways this could go down, and how each of the choices I could make could make for a more interesting story later, and well I honestly just needed a hot minute to think about it :)
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments, I appreciate them all! I hope you enjoy this new chapter!
> 
> (Just as a note, I am currently in the middle of moving, so I'm selling a lot of my things and soon it might not be possible for me to have access to my computer/internet)


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